


Assman

by CompanyPanda, PandaFalls



Category: OC House, The House at Panda Falls
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 19:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5638495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CompanyPanda/pseuds/CompanyPanda, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaFalls/pseuds/PandaFalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some temptations are too strong...<br/>(Full writing credit goes to CompanyPanda)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assman

"Nyk's here! Nyk's here!" Violet was saying as he burst into Typhus and Athanas's room without so much as a knock. Good thing they hadn't been up to any lovey-dovey business. But with the announcement made, Athanas was quick to peck Typhus's cheek and be out the bedroom door after Violet. The soldier chuckled, happy to see his little fawn frolic off for more lessons. He was getting rather good at the piano.  
  
Prepared for a rather lazy day at the house, Typhus wore nothing more than a tank top and some soft night pants. At least when they were made of cotton, he didn't need to bother with such trivial things as underwear. Stepping out of his room, he glanced down the hallway toward the door that led into Violet and Barnaby's room, wondering if the British brute was up yet. With his little goo boy gone off for lessons, surely he would be rising from bed. Perhaps he could get a good verbal jab in before breakfast.  
  
He strode down the hallway with purpose, already compiling a few scathing remarks to the rude redhead. With the door slightly ajar, Typhus simply pushed it open the rest of the way, mouth open and ready. The words died in his throat. Barnaby wasn't out of bed yet, not even dressed. He could tell because the covers had been left around the man's thighs, leaving Barnaby bare from the back of his head to... that butt. Barnaby was stretched out on his stomach, looking utterly relaxed and comfortable in the king-sized bed, head stuffed in a pillow and arms curled underneath it.  
  
Typhus wasn't sure how long he stood there staring, or when he had started moving. The moment he came back to himself was when he realized the bedroom door was shut and his fingers were quietly turning the lock on the doorknob. The problem with this was that he wasn't outside the room. He was inside.  
  
He took one step forward, than another, slowly making his way closer to the bed in the dim room. The only real light was the occasional sliver of it through the curtains. Which, Typhus noticed, drew his eyes to the expanse of Barnaby's back muscles as the light spilled over them. His thoughts drifted to their coupling, remembering the brush of his chest against that back. His eyes drifted down to Barnaby's rear as his feet came to a stop at the side of the bed. Such symmetry. Such a fine example of just the right mixture of muscle and fat--  
  
"What're yew doin' in here, Roman?" Came Barnaby's voice, words thick and heavy, riddled with sleep. He didn't even lift his head from the pillow nor open his eyes. The Brit's senses were sharp; Typhus could appreciate that. The soldier was currently appreciating quite a few things about Barnaby, but he said not a word. The Brit was just about to turn over and regard him with what the fuck he was doing in his room when a heavy hand settled on one ass cheek. He sucked in a short breath through his nose, eyes opening against the pillow. What the hell?  
  
Typhus let out a slow breath, squeezing the plush skin beneath his hand, kneading it like fresh dough. He tilted his head a bit, as if to get a better view, running his hand across the top of Barnaby's rear before grabbing the neglected cheek, giving it the same treatment. Barnaby released a small noise into the pillow, wanting to glance over his shoulder and see what the hell Typhus was thinking. But another part of him didn't.  
  
Before either one of them knew what was happening, Typhus's hand moved from his rear to the covers, Barnaby feeling the rest of his legs exposed as the soldier climbed onto the bed. His upper thighs were straddled, leaving his legs trapped together, causing his ass to perk up further in this restricted position. His muscled tensed briefly, but only as long as it took for _both_ of Typhus's hands to come settle on his ass. Those strong hands began to knead and massage the supple mounds, distracting Barnaby from his thoughts of "What the fuck is going on here," to "Bloody Christ tha' feels great." He shoved his face back in the pillow, moaning quietly.  
  
Typhus felt his pulse quicken at the muffled sound of that first moan, his tongue coming out to wet his lips. He glanced at the door, then back at Barnaby's rear.  
  
_Smack!_  
  
The Brit's body jolted from the sudden hit, a surprised sound leaving him as his head lifted, his face flaring up. He could hear Typhus's shaky exhale, felt the hand leave his cheek only to deliver another smack. Barnaby gasped, his hands fisting into the pillow and stuffing his face back into it, his hips lifting as much as he could manage with the Roman sitting on his thighs. Typhus didn't miss the motion. Barnaby wanted more. His hands shook as they massaged his rear for a couple more seconds before he lifted them both away. Barnaby's body tensed up in anticipation.  
  
_Smack!_ Left. _Smack!_ Right. The Brit's body jolted each time, partly due to the intensity of the strikes. Barnaby didn't seem to mind, especially as those muffled groans reached Typhus's ears. The redhead was biting his pillow, thighs quivering as Typhus smacked him again and again, each sharp strike more potent than the last until Barnaby's taunt flesh was red from the abuse. Barnaby was practically drooling moans into the pillow. The hits were intense. The pain only began to heighten in pleasure the more Typhus struck him. Sometimes he only caught him with the edges of his fingers. Other times the entire hand came down across his cheek, rippling the sensitive skin. Holy hell, he was rock hard. Typhus sure knew how to spank a guy.  
  
They were both panting by the end of the assault, Typhus's hands tenderly kneading his ass as he released another heavy breath. Gods, his ass looked gloriously flushed from his treatment of it. Then, Typhus realized something about himself. He was painfully **hard**.  
  
Without thought, Typhus reached for his pants and shoved down the waistband until his heavy shaft fell free. He gripped Barnaby's cheeks in both hands and slid his shaft between the round, perky mounds, sighing decadently at the friction of running his shaft against Barnaby's entrance. The Brit groaned deeply into his pillow, shoulders bunching up as his arms gathered underneath him and his hips pressed up and back into the attention. Typhus pressed those lovely cheeks inward on either side of his shaft and began to move his hips, slowly thrusting between them. A quiet moan finally escaped him, his first actual noise since he came in here. And even now, with all the things he had done and was currently doing, he still didn't understand why he had walked in.  
  
Even with the minute shift of their bodies and their muddled noises, it didn't take very long for Typhus to feel that creeping sensation of orgasm. He could feel Barnaby's body trembling under his hold, practically holding his hips down against the bed via his ass cheeks as he thrusted against his body, using him for his own pleasure. The Brit didn't seem to mind. In fact, Barnaby was nursing his own erection which was currently trapped between his body and the bed, getting just the right amount of friction from this crazy situation. Barnaby moved in time with Typhus as much as he could in his trapped position, the soldier shivering at the idea that Barnaby wanted to be used by him like this, wanted to offer his fine body for the soldier's pleasure. So far there was no evidence suggesting otherwise.  
  
Typhus clenched his jaw, eyes drawn half mast as his hips picked up just a bit more speed, watching his shaft, now slick with precum, sliding up and between Barnaby's supple cheeks. The sight was lewd. It was perverted. He had never done such a thing to Athanas. Their couplings were beautiful, tender, sweet. This was raw eroticism at its finest, a Roman soldier rutting his pleasures against the backside of a barbarian, and as Barnaby's body stiffened and he came with a shout into the material of his bed pillow, Typhus was overcome by it. His eyes slid shut, head falling back as he gasped sharply, part of a noise choked off in his throat to prevent anything louder as he came hard across Barnaby's lower back. Several thick streams of his semen spurted from between those abused cheeks and sliding down into the dip of his lower back, collecting there as his body pressed down against Barnaby in the final waves of his passion.  
  
The soldier's head lulled forward, hazy eyes drifting down to the utter mess he had made of Barnaby's skin, a slight smirk pulling at his lips as he panted for breath, hands loosening the tight grip he had had on the other's rear. Barnaby had turned his head to the side, not wanting to suffocate in his own pillow as he fought to catch his own breath, feeling his softening cock slide in the mess he had caused against the mattress. Without a word, Typhus slid himself from between Barnaby's cheeks, slipping his shaft back into his pants and slowly moving off of him and the bed.  
  
"Yew could at least wipe me off. Can't really get up with cum on my back," he muttered, one green eye looking over at Typhus for the first time since he came in. The soldier looked to the nightstand, seeing a box of Kleenex there. He grabbed a handful from the box and came back over, resting one hand on Barnaby's upper back as he cleaned up the mess in silence. With a handful of dirty tissues, Typhus took one last glance at Barnaby's ass, still slightly red from the rough spanking he had given him. Typhus had marked him again, claiming dominance in his primal act. He cast his eyes towards Barnaby's face, the two of them staring at one another in silence for the span of a minute before the soldier turned away. He tossed the tissues in the waste bin by the bed and left without a word, closing the door behind him and heading back to his room.


End file.
